Poornima Manco

Author

belief

Life lessons from exercise

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This is the heaviest I have ever been weight-wise. It’s showing in the clothes I wear, and more importantly, on a face that’s already chubby, it’s showing in the new double chin I sport. How have I allowed it to get to this point and why? Well, incrementally and because drowning my sorrows in food had become my go-to in the last few months. But photographs don’t lie, and the last lot of photos I had my husband take for my new book, showed all the lovely over-indulgence on my face, much to my horror!

For years my one big fear was of being overweight. The overriding reason being that diabetes runs in the family and having seen my mother and uncle suffer from it, I was acutely aware that I did not want to end up in the same boat. I tried to eat sensibly, not always succumb to my sweet tooth and exercise regularly. This worked like a charm for many years. But slowly that iron-grip I had on my diet started to slip, and a pound or two creeping up didn’t seem so bad. Till one fine day, I woke up 28 pounds heavier than my ideal weight! While it was all fun and games putting it on, taking it off is a long, hard slog, one which I have to prepare myself for physically as well as mentally.

Through it all though, what I am proud of is the fact that I have not stopped exercising. I may not be as fast on my feet as I was before, but I sure as heck am willing and able to move. I consider myself fairly fit and on the odd occasions that I have been unable to exercise for a length of time, I miss it horrendously.

You see, over the years exercise has taught me so much. At a time when I feel particularly low about my appearance, this list is a reminder to myself that I cannot and must not give up.

  1. Endurance: In one of my hyper exercising phases I fell into long-distance running. The first half-marathon I ever competed in, I was ill-prepared and injured to boot. But through sheer doggedness I ran the distance, hobbling the last mile or so, telling myself that I could not quit at that stage. I suffered from a bad knee for months after that, but I learned two valuable lessons that day. One, that the mind could conquer anything and two, that preparation was key. The next few marathons I competed in, I enjoyed and completed utilising the lessons I’d learned the first time around.
  2. Resilience: Ever tried doing an exercise class after a bad night’s sleep, when you are particularly tired and cantankerous? No? Well, I have. Those are the worst days, the days you want to stop before you’ve even begun. When the cheery warm-up seems like torture and every move designed to punish your already tired body. But it’s those days when you discover your reserves of strength. When you push yourself to do just that little bit more and keep pushing till suddenly you realise that you’re done and it wasn’t that bad after all. That resilience I have applied to many other areas of my life successfully. It is something I learn time and again on my bad days, and know that it is an invaluable tool that I will utilise for the rest of my life.
  3. It’s not a competition: I’ve recently joined a Body Balance class. I wish I’d done it much earlier as it is a class I love. It’s also a class I’m woefully inadequate at. A combination of Tai Chi, Pilates and Yoga, it truly balances you and fills you with a sense of calm. The first time I ever did this class, I looked around me and spotted many different age groups, but that told me very little about their ability. There were ladies in their seventies who were far more flexible and bendy than I could ever be. But nobody was judging anyone else, and no one was judging me as I tried to get into positions awkward and unfamiliar to my body. In time I have improved. Also, I’ve stopped looking at other people as I realise that there is no competition here. Each one of us is here for ourselves. It’s our journey and how we see fit to complete it, is up to us too.
  4. Happiness: This one has been bandied about a lot, but it’s true. In a crazy, rushed life, taking a bit of time out to do some good to your body by way of exercise produces the happiness effect. Physical activity stimulates the release of dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin, as well as endorphins. These brain chemicals play an important part in regulating your mood and overall sense of well-being. Sometimes a little bit of exercise is all it takes to lift yourself out of a funk.
  5. Belonging: Exercisers become a part of a community. There is an unspoken understanding between them, a recognition of why they do what they do, regardless of the reasons that propel them. Over the years I feel like I’ve grown to belong to this club of people who enjoy the many benefits of exercise without being preachy or ‘judgy’ about it.  

So, having listed all these wonderful things that keep me exercising, I know that all I have to do now is to get a handle on my food habits, cure myself of emotional/binge/comfort eating, get regular sleep, keep hydrated and fingers crossed, I will be well on my way towards getting back into my favourite pair of jeans. Wish me luck!

The multiple sides of Megxit

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Living in the United Kingdom, it has been nigh on impossible to escape the news that Harry and Meghan, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex have decided that they want to be part-time royals. What an outcry there has been! Is this a second abdication of duty, prompted by another American divorcee? Are they trying to have their cake and eat it too? And what of all of Harry’s attacks on the media? Is Meghan so thin-skinned that she didn’t realise that scrutiny was par for the course in her position?

I am no royalist, but I am fascinated by the media circus around them. Back in the ’90s when I first moved to the UK, I couldn’t turn sideways without being confronted by another headline or photograph of Princess Diana. To me, at the time, it seemed outrageous that the woman was given no modicum of privacy, that her every move was watched, papped and analysed in the minutest detail. We all know how that ended.

The appetites of the masses are fed by the salacious gossip peddled as news by the tabloids. It’s like the royal family, with all their prestige and titles, have to behave like puppets who perform to earn their keep. Whatever feelings or opinions they may have on the matter are never ever to be aired. Given time, if they’ve played the role well enough, they may well become inviolate in the eyes of the media and the masses. But that could take years, and they had better not step out of line in the meantime.

Meghan was always different. Strong, opinionated, mixed-race and divorced, this ‘breath of fresh air’ was cut very little slack right from the start. Like all other royal wives, she incurred the slurs and the brickbats that came her way. Reports of her having driven a wedge between the brothers, having made Kate cry, been a demanding diva before her wedding and regularly upset her staff making some key people quit, appeared all over the tabloids. Was any of it true? No smoke without fire, people said. Could these reports have been hugely exaggerated? No rebuttals came from any parties. And so the myth evolved.

Now, none of us is privy to what’s gone on behind closed doors. Maybe Meghan was difficult and demanding, maybe the brothers did fall out and maybe things could have been handled differently by all the parties involved. But here’s the thing: which family doesn’t have its share of problems? Arguments, disagreements, not seeing eye to eye on issues has happened to all of us, all over the world, just not in such a public way.

In a saga to rival a soap, Harry and Meghan decided to decamp to Canada. Yet, they were willing to still perform whatever royal duties were required of them. Over a meeting with her son and grandsons, the queen agreed to his request, but in turn, imposed her own conditions, the details still being hammered out. However, her tone was conciliatory, and her handling of the situation incredibly astute and diplomatic, just as any wise matriarch’s would be.

What I find astounding in all of this is just how vilified Meghan has been by the tabloid press and by the masses. How is it possible for people not to see that for an educated, independent woman, royal life could prove stifling and claustrophobic? That even the most self-possessed person could eventually let the enormous barrage of criticism get to her? That Harry was only wanting to do the best by his family?

Let’s face facts for a minute. Harry is sixth in line to the throne and knew that in time his relevance would only decrease. What’s wrong with him wanting to carve out a separate identity from that of The Crown, from wanting to establish his own credentials, and display his own personality? As for whether the tabloid attacks on Meghan were racist or not, ask a person of colour that question, not some old, white guy who looks at the headlines from his narrow perspective of white privilege and says, no, not at all!

In no way am I trying to defend or justify any single person in this entire episode, but let’s just try and bring some level-headed clarity to the situation without putting on the blinkers of our judgemental selves.

Why has Harry and Meghan’s stepping down as senior royals been more significant than Prince Andrew’s shady involvement with convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein? What about that awful, dissembling interview of his? Where are the constant headlines about that? Where is the never-ending hue and cry? Where is the persistent vilification, the denouncement, the anger? Where?

Ultimately, what happens to Harry and Meghan has little bearing on what happens to us in our daily lives, yet we watch slack-jawed, hungry for details as another family combats its internal travails, a family that we want to be ‘perfectly royal’, to have no problems because why would they, with all that money and privilege? Yet, when they do, we want all the dirty linen washed in front of us, because how else will we get our kicks? How else will we feel better about ourselves, by knowing that no one is immune to pain, regardless of status or stature?

Maybe it is time to look away, time to let them sort things out and time to let the dust settle. It’s the least we owe Diana’s son.

 

New year, New you & all that jazz

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Every year without fail I make my New Year resolutions. Lose weight, sleep more, write more, practice patience, be kinder, be nicer etc. Some of these I manage to implement, while others fall by the wayside. Isn’t that what it’s like for most of us?

The start of a year seems to be a good time to set oneself goals. Things that need accomplishing and things that never seem to get accomplished. But there is a desire and a willingness to set oneself these aims for the future. Somehow, a new year is like a blank slate just waiting to be written upon.

2020 has a nice ring to it. It is not just the start of a new year, it’s also the beginning of a new decade. A decade which I hope is less turbulent and traumatic than the last one was, for me personally. A decade which will see the fruition of certain ambitions, the cementing of certain relationships and the sloughing off of others. And maybe, just maybe, 2020 will be the start of that.

Yet, what are New Year resolutions without a list? I am the queen of lists. I make daily ones, monthly ones and annual ones too. I derive so much satisfaction from ticking things off my list(s). There is a sense of execution, attainment and fulfilment each time something gets crossed off. So, this year, in addition to the usual suspects, I have added another challenge for myself.

This is my year of the no-spend.

Why? Well, I have been reading and hearing so much about sustainable living, and there is something about this idea that appeals to me. Mass consumption has wrecked our beautiful planet. From greenhouse gases to plastic waste, from deforestation to ridiculous amounts of energy consumption, the human race has done everything in its capacity to destroy the only real home it has. What kind of a planet are we going to leave our children? What kind of a future will they have? What can we do right now to help?

Well, we can begin by living sustainably. By consuming only what we require and no more, by practising minimalism and reducing our carbon footprint as much as we can.

To that end, I am starting with this no-spend year. The plan is that I will not buy any new clothes this year. The garment industry, particularly ‘fast fashion’ that sees garments produced, consumed and discarded at alarming rates, is a large contributor to global pollution and waste. My not buying any new clothes may only be a drop in the ocean, but it’s a start. To that list, I am also adding cosmetics and costume jewellery.

Now, on a personal front, I am very fortunate to have enough to keep me going, not just this year but perhaps for the next few years too. But, let’s face it. We, particularly women, don’t just shop to replace. We shop for fun, for fashion, for variety and sometimes, to relieve boredom. I know I do. So, I intend to avoid all such triggers and replace them with things like reading, meeting up with friends, writing my next book… you get the idea.

There is a caveat to my no-spend year. I will still buy gifts for friends and I will still go out for meals (preferably not blow-out ones) and have my ‘experiences’. Otherwise, I’m likely to become a very unhappy character indeed.

Baby steps.

At the end of this year, I will report back on how it went. Whether I managed to do it, whether there were any blips along the way, how I felt, whether I’d like to continue and alongside answer any questions you may have as well.

Wish me luck!

And oh, by the way, dry January is going well too. 😉🙏🏽

 

 

Hurry up, slow down

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Where has 2019 gone? I mean, seriously! I know we tend to say this every year when we look back, but this year in particular, has just sped past. Scarily so! Is this a side-effect of ageing? Remember when we were children and time seemed to pass soooo slowwwwly?

So why the ‘hurry up’ in the title of this blog post? Well, it’s quite a personal thing. You see, I am now more than ever, acutely aware that my time on this planet is limited. Gone are the days of youthful insouciance, knowing in one’s bones that there are decades to follow, many many years to accomplish, live, love, party and work. Now, it’s a slow winding down to a more sedate living; less partying, possible retirement and fewer accomplishments. Not yet, I know, but not that far off in the future either.

Hence, there is a need within me to try and hurry up in accomplishing all the goals I have set myself. Writing more books, travelling to far-flung places, reading all the classics I missed the first time around, watching highly-regarded Television shows, discovering little-known gems of movies, doing more and being more. All these desires and the realisation of the paucity of time.

One could argue that no-one knows exactly how long we have to live, so really, the mantra should be to live every day as if it were your last. In reality, though, that is an exhausting thought. Who wants to spend each day chasing goals? I don’t know about you, but I have good days and bad days. Days that I want to do sod-all and days that I am at my productive best. It is in fits and starts and bursts of energy and inspiration that I move forward.

My slow down is an appeal not just to time (when has that ever happened?) but also to myself. In hurtling towards doing more and being more, it’s easy to miss the beauty of just being. There is so much joy and satisfaction to be found in sitting around a dinner table with your family, discussing the mundane details of life. Such pleasure to be had over a cup of coffee with a friend, catching up or reminiscing. So much contentment in sipping a glass of wine in front of the fireplace, sitting quietly with your partner, letting the hypnotic dance of the flames lull you into a serene state of equanimity.

Perhaps it is finding a balance between the hurrying up and slowing down that allows one to live one’s best life. So, here’s to 2020. May it be the best of both.

🍾🥂🎊

Turn back time

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Oddly, synergistically even, I have started to watch two TV shows about time travel. One is the series based on the books by Diana Gabaldon, called ‘Outlander’, and the other is a new French series that Netflix suggested I might enjoy, called ‘Il etait une seconde fois’ (Twice upon a time). I’m only two episodes in on the first and partially through the first episode on the second. Although hugely different in cast, location and treatment, the premise is one of returning to the past, through some strange, magical happenstance.

As humans, we are continually fascinated with the idea of time travel, and explore this in many mediums, whether that is in books like ‘The Time Traveller’s Wife’, movies like ‘Back to the Future’ or television series like ‘Doctor Who’. The ability to challenge space and time is like an itch that needs scratching to be soothed. But why are we so taken with the idea of returning to the past? After all, unlike the future, where events are yet to unfold and therefore, there is a natural curiosity to find out more, we are already familiar with what has occurred historically, and indeed, intimately familiar with our own, personal histories.

Could it be, that in our desire to return to particular places and times in our past, we seek to amend or rectify our mistakes? Could it be, that having suffered bereavement or loss, we seek to spend time in the company of loved ones, knowing in hindsight that it will not last forever? Could it also be, that we seek to reimagine ourselves in our yet-to-be-determined futures once again?

Regardless of what we imagine or seek, turning back the clock is an impossibility. As they say, time and tide wait for no man. However, there are no boundaries to our imagination. So we continue to explore, examine and extrapolate the endless possibilities of breaking through such barriers.

Let us consider though, if ever, in the distant future, time travel did become possible, what life would be like. We could be stuck in loops of indecision, wanting to continuously examine the various permutations of a given choice and perhaps, returning over and over again to change seemingly minor moments that led to momentous shifts. How exhausting that would be! Would we be pushing the rewind button on our lives all the time? Would we ever be able to live with the choices and decisions we made at any given point? Would we grow, evolve, change or learn? What a great TV show that would make!

Hindsight is 20/20 and there may be several occasions in the past that we would love to be able to return to and steer our lives differently, but learning to live with the consequences of what we decided in that given moment, with the information and wisdom we possessed back then, is what maturity and growth are all about.

The fact is that life does progress linearly, from birth to death. Yes, it’s wonderful to imagine alternatives, but really, what is even more wonderful is to take nothing we have or do for granted. The inability to change the past, and the futility of trying to predict the future, is what makes life the thrilling ride that it is.

But when reality gets tedious and boring, there is always vicarious time travel to be indulged in. Go on, enjoy yourself! It’s Christmas, after all.

The extroverted introvert

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Does this sound like you?

I’ve just come back from the largest Indie book conference in the world, where I learned so much and made many new friends, but you know what my most surprising takeaway was? The fact that, at heart, most writers are introverts. As am I.

I’ve always pretended to be an extrovert, be happy in company and at parties, even enjoyed the spotlight to a large extent, but somewhere within me I’ve always known, that given half a chance, I would rather be curled up on my sofa reading a book.

A lot of it could be down to my background and upbringing. I am an only child, and in my childhood with both parents working, I had no choice but to embrace reading and escape into other worlds or do the same with my imagination. Which, I suppose, in turn, led me to become a writer.

The other aspect of my nature is the desire to melt into the background, to become an observer of people and life, to take mental notes and file them away for future reference. What are writers but people who carefully curate experiences to create experiences for their readers?

So, looking around a room of 1000 strangers, I had a mild panic attack. How would I possibly get by for the next three days? I knew no one, and although we were all there to learn something, to grow, to expand our minds and our readership, we were still unknown quantities to each other.

I really needn’t have worried. Just as a country has its own language, we had ours. ‘Reader magnets’, CPCs, Beta readers, Bookbub deals – words and terms that would be incomprehensible to a layperson, became the vocabulary we introduced ourselves with. ‘Reverse harem’, ‘LitRPG’, ‘Space Opera’ were genres I started to grasp. Most importantly though, I came to understand, that here was a humongous tribe of (mostly) introverts who had pushed themselves out of their comfort zones to mingle with and learn from other equally terrified introverts.

There was absolutely no pressure to socialise if you didn’t want to. If you did, however, you were welcomed into groups with a rare and genuine kinship. In an extremely intense and enjoyable few days, I found myself relaxing into being just me. This me could be an extrovert or an introvert, depending on my mood. And that was okay because these were people who understood because this was them too.

On any given day, we are a multitude of things. I know that I am, for the most part, an extroverted introvert. Which means that after I have spent a lot of time in the company of people, I need to retreat and recharge my batteries for quite a while before I venture into company again. Some people will read this and say, “You? Never!” Because the facade is a good one. But I am also the person who can get extremely shy, awkward and tongue-tied amongst people. Often I’ve had to give myself a very stern talking-to before meeting someone new, for fear of making a complete fool of myself. I am incredibly diffident about approaching people, and the tiniest rebuff can dent my confidence for days.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I want you to be aware that sometimes people aren’t who they appear to be.

For the world I may seem to be a confident go-getter, travelling around the world, ready to plunge into any new experience, up for a laugh or a party at the drop of a hat. In reality, I am shy, very critical of myself, lazy to a large extent and an over-thinker to a painful degree. I am no different from any other human being. We are all bundles of contradictions.

Maybe its time to discard all such labels and to embrace our faults and our foibles, to delight in the many positive qualities we have been endowed with, work hard to overcome our shortcomings, but also to never ever lose sight of the fact that regardless of who or what kind of people we are, there is a reason for and a value to our existence.